


Political Opportunism

by pedestrian_footbridge



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 'Really nothing much happens' is what I'm trying to say, A categorical waste of time, F/M, Perhaps a touch too subtle, Spoilers!, What's the difference between very subtle and nonexistant?, implied romantic relationship, very subtly implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pedestrian_footbridge/pseuds/pedestrian_footbridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quiet that invades the normally bustling office in reaction to that statement mostly speaks for itself. As does the raised eyebrow on Breda’s face, the smirk on Havoc’s, and the somewhat frantic darting of Fuery’s eyes back and forth. Falman is out gathering documents at the time and is filled in later that night over drinks but, had he been in attendance, his blanched look would have spoken for itself as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Political Opportunism

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: 
> 
> As far as I know, the process of electing Fuhrers in Amestris is never revealed (unless they were all chosen via philosopher stone-insertion test following covert facility brainwashing camp/daycare) so I tried to keep the political stuff as vague as possible. Which wasn't hard because I know very little about politics/campaigning.

The Question is popped on a Wednesday afternoon. Sort of.

“How about marriage?”

The quiet that invades the normally bustling office in reaction to that statement mostly speaks for itself. As does the raised eyebrow on Breda’s face, the smirk on Havoc’s, and the somewhat frantic darting of Fuery’s eyes back and forth. Falman is out gathering documents at the time and is filled in later that night over drinks but, had he been in attendance, his blanched look would have spoken for itself as well.

Hawkeye’s pen pauses for a nearly imperceptible second (it might have been completely imperceptible if she weren’t in a room of military operatives acutely trained in information-gathering) before resuming its scratches. This was not entirely unexpected, after all. And Mustang breaks the silence.

“Why, Captain Fokker”, the General places a hand theatrically on his chest, to the chortles of Havoc “is that a proposal? This is so sudden.”

The captain is a new and, as he often insists, temporary addition to the Mustang campaign, quick as he is to deny any willing involvement with “blatant ex-rebels”. Fokker is, in fact, the nephew of one of Roy’s more prominent supporters in the upper brass (the new upper brass, that is. Following the systematic disposal of the previous upper brass), as well as a sharp mind with a surprising knack for political science. He lacks the easy joviality of Hughes, but has turned out to be quite helpful in areas such as public polling, organization, and campaign strategizing (which involves little to no gunfire and, thus, in which their team is not thoroughly equipped), as well as networking amongst the aristocrats of Amestris (whom Roy can capably charm on his own once he is allowed a foot in the door). For the most part, Fokker is a typically career military personnel who, while content with his current position at Intelligence, is not so content that he would blindly turn down the opportunity to be owed a favor by the potential next Führer of Amestris.  
Captain Fokker is, at this specific moment, a little agitated that his carefully prepared advice is, worse than falling on deaf ears, being outright mocked but, in all fairness, he is also entirely incorrect.

“I’m serious, General.”

“So am I”, Mustang retorts, leaning back in his desk chair, smirking. “Flattered, but serious. It’s a no. But feel free to worship me from afar.”

“I’m just saying, Armstrong is a full-blooded Amestrian; can trace her lineage back to the very origins of this country; is older than you are; has been in the military longer than you have; and is viewed by the country as capable, trustworthy, strong, confident, and someone worthy of respect. Meanwhile you, sir, are still seen in some circles, important circles, as a volatile and fickle social climber. Or Grumman’s lapdog.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Havoc quips vengefully.

“Yours. But facts are facts.”

“And the work in the East?” Hawkeye asks, looking up from her report.

“Has earned you about as much as it has taken away. But the people who like you for being ambitious and open to change aren’t the people we’re talking about; they’re going to support you anyway. This is for the people who are afraid you’re going to turn their country upside down for your own gain and are turning to General Major Armstrong for some sense of constancy.”

“And putting a ring on some broad’s finger is going to quell them?” Breda asks, disbelieving.

“It’s a symbol of stability”, Sheska ventures, looking up from her detailed note-taking in a rare contribution to the discussion, “and family orientation. People like that.”

“That’s bullshit”, Havoc barks, “The Ice Queen’s not getting married. Why should he?”

“Duh”, that’s Rebecca, from her perch on the end of Hawkeye’s desk, “because she’s not an idiot. That would ruin her image as a standalone woman. Plus, she doesn’t need to prove she’s stable; her family is in literally every branch of government. Literally.”

“Aren’t you concerned that getting engaged right now will be seen as purely a political move?” Fuery asks. “It might have the opposite effect.”

“Not if we play our cards right.”

Hawkeye imagines their gazes as so many laser sights locked on to target, ‘target’ being her, but finishes her paragraph regardless. Paperwork doesn’t stop just because one’s commanding officer decides to make a gambit for the highest office in Amestris, after all. When she does address them, she’s mildly amused by how very characteristic each face is. From Rebecca’s barely contained giddiness to Sheska’s blush, Fuery’s avoidance of direct eye contact, Fokker’s stoney poker face, Havoc’s unsubtle wink, and Breda’s scrutinizing scowl.

The General is staring outright. Chin propped in one gloved hand. A tilt to his head, a smirk on his lips, a fire in his eyes.

“The General doesn’t play cards”, she says at last, looking away from Mustang at the last second to address Captain Fokker. “And he’s about to be late for a meeting with South Command.”

“Well”, Roy interjects before anyone else can further the discussion, “that’s what she says.” He gives a big stretch, yawning like he’s done more than sit back and express casual interest as other people discuss his political and marital future. When he jerks his head towards the door there’s no confusion as to who he’s gesturing to and Hawkeye is half a step behind him, as always, as they head out to greet the arriving general.

Fokker turns to Havoc after the clicks of their heels disappear down the hallway, “Mustang doesn’t play cards?”

“Not for important stuff; too much chance involved. The military’s pretty strict on anti-fraternization laws, after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> What I'm trying to imply here is that if Mustang were to lose to Armstrong in the Fuhrer race after marrying Hawkeye, he would remain a general but she would no longer be able to be his adjutant. But I wasn't sure how to get that across without outright stating it and I was equally unsure how to outright state it without being too blunt so instead I chose to do neither.


End file.
